


The Course of True Love

by oceanofdarkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, FTL AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofdarkness/pseuds/oceanofdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Belle had refused to leave when Rumplestiltskin told her to go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking a break from this fic, but I do intend to finish it... I swear!  
> Thanks to everyone who is enjoying it, and I promise not to leave you hanging forever!

_**“The course of true love never did run smooth” - William Shakespeare** _

 

_**  
**_

_ “Now you’ve made your choice, and you’re going to regret it forever. All you’ll have is an empty heart and a chipped cup.” _

She looked at him a moment longer, lovely blue eyes shining with unshed tears, then she turned and stalked out of the room. He fought the urge to call her back, choking back her name as it struggled to escape his throat. He fought even harder not to run after her, take her in his arms and beg her to stay.

He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to calm, but her voice echoed in his mind, hurt and accusing.

_ “You’re a coward, Rumplestiltskin.” _

That he was. And Belle was right. He would regret his choice. He already did.

 

__________________________

 

Belle felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. She’d expected him to rail at her, leave her to languish in the dungeon, possibly even strike her. She’d been trying to imagine what type of elaborate punishment he might deem fitting for her particular offense, and several notions from the truly frightening to the wickedly exciting had occurred to her. But for all of the scenarios she had woven while waiting for him to return, she had not expected him to discard her.

_ “I don’t want you anymore, Dearie.” _

Though she knew it was a lie, his harsh words had found their mark and wounded both her heart and her pride. She forced herself to march from the dungeon with her back straight and her head held high. She’d be damned if she’d beg him to let her stay. She had just about managed to shove aside her pain in favor of indignation when she reached the great hall and stopped dead in her tracks.

The devastation in the room was overwhelming. Standing amidst the debris, she could feel the force of his fury still. She hugged her arms about herself, shuddering to think of the force of that rage directed at her, and almost gave in to a blind panic that would have sent her running from the hall and the castle… almost. Before she could will her body to move, her eyes fell upon the chipped cup, intact amidst the wreckage. Even in what must have been a blind rage, he had stopped himself before he could shatter it.

The breath left her then, and she made her way to his chair on trembling legs, allowing herself to collapse into it as the sobs took her. She realized that he must have thrown her into the dungeon to keep her safely out of his reach as he gave vent to his temper, and knew from the state of this room what control that had cost him. 

When her sobbing had subsided somewhat, she stared around the hall with new eyes. Where she had seen fury and rage at first glance, she now saw pain and confusion… and betrayal. And in that simple moment of clarity, Belle made a decision. She would not leave him, no matter what he might say, if he left her any control in the matter.

She thought of trying to clean up the worst of the mess, but found that she could not muster the strength to rise. So she merely surrendered herself to his chair and tried to steel her resolve for what must come next.

 

________________________________

 

  


It was full dark before Rumplestiltskin left the dungeon to return to the great hall, and so distracted was he still with thoughts of his lost Belle that he almost allowed himself to drop into her lap before he registered that she was now sitting in his chair. Her eyes were closed, and he thought for a moment that she might be sleeping, but her voice startled him out of that notion. 

“You have me at a disadvantage, Rumplestiltskin. You see much better in the dark than I.”

He leapt back from her as though she had burned him. By all the gods! He had no idea in that moment if he found her brave or simply reckless, but that hardly mattered to the issue at hand. He had the power to light every candle in the hall with a thought but chose to leave them in darkness, lest his eyes betray him. Willing his voice to sound cold and threatening, he spoke.

“I thought I told you to go, Dearie.”

If she feared him, her tone did nothing to give her away. 

“And so you did… but we had a deal, and I will not be the one to break it.” 

“Our deal was for your services as my caretaker, Dearie, which I no longer require.”

He saw her stand and plant herself firmly in front of him.

“Our deal was forever. You were quite insistent on that point, as I recall.”

He had waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture of dismissal before it registered that it would be lost in the darkness of the hall.

“A technicality, Dearie.”

“Technicalities are your stock and trade, Rumplestiltskin.” He could almost hear the smirk in her voice. “You surely don’t mean to tell me that the fine point of a deal is of no interest to you.”

He found that he wanted to tell her that it was of great interest to him and he would never let her go because he had said forever and he bloody well meant it, but he was still too wary of her determination to stay. Instead, he poured as much indifference as he could manage into his voice, and fluttered his hand in another wasted gesture.

“Stay then, if you’re so determined to remain where you aren’t wanted, Dearie.”

As Belle had rightly pointed out, Rumplestiltskin could see perfectly well in the dark. The hurt in her eyes registered clearly, and he wished very much to take her in his arms and show her just how wanted she was, but of course he would not.

“I will stay with you forever, Rumplestiltskin.” It was hardly even a whisper, and as soon as it left her lips they began to tremble. She stood before him for a moment and then turned away to leave and make her way to her bedchamber. 

She was brave, his Belle. And he was still a coward.

It occurred to him that if that perfect creature truly did love him, then perhaps she was cursed even more cruelly than he.


	2. Chapter 2

When Belle came down to the great hall the following morning, she found no evidence that the room had been torn apart only the day before. She would take this as a good sign, she decided. If he wanted to punish her, leaving that disaster for her to set right would have been an excellent start. She went about her day as she always had for these past months with him. Though she expected he might avoid her for a time, she prepared his meals and his tea. He did not present himself at all that day, nor the next. On the third day, Belle brought a tray up to his tower room and left it outside the locked door at the foot of the stairs. She would have begun to wonder if he’d left the castle altogether but for the fact that his meal had been picked over when she came to collect the dishes later that evening.

How long would he insist on this self imposed exile, she wondered? Well, he couldn’t hide away from her forever.

Their kiss had begun to break his curse, so it  _was_  true love. That much she knew. He knew it too, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Surely, he couldn’t deny the truth of it when he’d had a chance to consider it properly. Why he was so afraid to let himself believe it in the first place, she couldn’t begin to guess. What must be in his past that convinced him no one could want him? Whatever it was, his sense that Belle herself had betrayed him with her kiss would do nothing to help him see that she had no desire to hurt or reject him.

She had been manipulated by the queen, and she hated being made a pawn in the woman’s power play. She cursed herself for being so gullible that she’d been turned into a weapon to strike at Rumplestiltskin. It was done, though, and could not be undone. She would simply have to be patient and work to gain his trust again if he ever let her near enough to try. He might be cloistered up in that turret now, but at least he had not insisted that she leave. As long as he allowed her to remain there was hope, and for now that would have to be enough.

 

————————————————————————-

 

It was laughable really. The fearsome Dark One hiding away in the tower of his own castle from his maid. He dropped his face into his hands with a groan. At first he thought she might just give up and go away, but he hadn’t really believed it. Obstinate woman! If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t really wanted it either.

He’d known she was still here even before she started leaving trays for him at the bottom of the stairs on the third day of his retreat. He felt her moving about the castle. He spent a ridiculous amount of his time concentrating on doing just that.

It had taken several days before he could calm himself enough to see the truth of their situation.

Belle  _must_  truly love him, her kiss would not have had the effect it did otherwise. Though why she would wish to give her heart to a wicked old dragon such as himself, Rumplestiltskin could not fathom. Nor could he even try to pretend to himself that he didn’t love her in return.

She might love him now, but that would change when she knew the truth of him. How had he managed to give his heart to this impossible girl so that it could be broken a second time?

He should just march down those stairs and tell her the whole sorry mess so that she could leave him and be done with it. At least he could do that much for her… free her from whatever illusions she had so that she could go and see the world the way she’d hoped to before he’d locked her away with only a monster for company.

But then, he couldn’t really let her go  _now_ , could he?

Aside from his own need to have her with him, the queen knew enough of her value to him to make that impossible. The evil witch had tried to use her against him once, she would do so again given the chance.  _Love is weakness_ … it was her dearest held belief. No, Belle must stay under his protection. And how much worse would that be, to have to keep her close when he had lost her love?

What in all the realms had he gotten himself into?

 

——————————————————————————-

 

Belle was brought up short when she came into the great hall and actually found Rumplestiltskin spinning at his wheel. It had been almost a full week, and this was the first time he’d ventured out of his tower. She almost turned and left the hall, afraid that seeing her would send him back up to the tower again for another week. But no, if he’d come down at all, he must be prepared to see her.

She told herself not to push, that too much too soon could only damage things between them even more. But she had been alone with her thoughts for days, and the distance was killing her. She found that she could not hold her tongue.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

He did not acknowledge her. She hadn’t really expected him to.

“I… I just wanted to…” She released a frustrated sigh. “I owe you an apology.” She saw the wheel slow, but he gave no further indication he was aware of her at all. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you without talking to you about it. It never occurred to me that anyone wouldn’t want to break a curse, but I suppose you have your reasons.” An almost imperceptible tilt of his head was his only response.

This wasn’t going well. She should just stop but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“I was impulsive. I won’t… I won’t do it again, I promise.”

She was babbling, she knew it. She went on anyway.

“I just… when I realized that I was falling… that I had feelings for you, I was afraid of… well, of getting my heart broken.” She snorted out a mirthless little sound. “I thought that the… darkness in you would make it impossible for you to lov… to care for me in return. So, when you let me go I’d decided that I should just keep going. But I didn’t really want to.” Still nothing but his back and the slow turning of the wheel, but she had started this now and she needed him to understand. “When…” Belle was going to say the queen, but she thought better of it. “When  _she_  stopped me, I didn’t understand that she was there for a purpose. I knew she made me uncomfortable, but… I know I was naive. I just… I didn’t want to leave you, and she offered me hope that I wouldn’t have to, and I wanted that so badly… I just didn’t stop to think…” She trailed off and a truly pained sigh escaped her. “I never meant to betray you. I’m truly sorry.”

His hand stilled on the wheel but he did not turn to face her, nor did he speak. She lowered her head, unable to blink back her tears any longer, and then turned to go.

“Belle.” He whispered it so softly he wasn’t certain she would even hear him, wasn’t certain that he wanted her to. He did not rise, merely shifted on his stool to look at her.

When she turned back to him he saw her eyes shining with tears, but there was such pained hope in them his heart clenched in his chest. She took her lip between her teeth to stop it trembling.

“Yes?”

He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to hold her and wipe away her tears.

“Fetch me some tea, would you, Dearie?”

She barked a surprised laugh and he saw her body relax just a little. Her rich curls shifted against her shoulders with a slight shake of her head.

“Of course. I won’t be a minute.”

He stared after her as she left the hall. It seemed his little caretaker was the second deal he’d made that he didn’t understand.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle had started to relax again, though she was still wary of getting too close to the imp and very mindful of not touching him when they found themselves close enough for her to do so. She was pleased that he seemed to be getting at least a _little_ comfortable around her again as well. The past few evenings, he’d even moved closer to her as they’d bid one another goodnight. He might not ever be able to fully accept her love, but she hoped at least they might be able to achieve some measure of affection between them. Eventually, she knew, she would have to force the issue. He would be content to let things sit between them longer than she would, but for now she was happy to allow things to return to some semblance of normal.

They’d fallen into an uneasy version of the routine they followed before the kiss. Rumplestiltskin was once more back at his spinning wheel instead of lurking about up in the tower. He had not left the castle once, though whether this was because he wished to be near her or simply from a current lack of interesting deals to pursue Belle wouldn’t have tried to guess. They once again spent evenings by a fire in the great hall, he spinning and she reading. They took tea together and discussed her books and his more intriguing deals as they had been accustomed to. They did not discuss what had passed between them.They both knew that they could not ignore the recent turn of events forever, but for the moment neither seemed anxious to destroy the fragile peace that had descended within the Dark Castle. There would be time to deal with such things when the wounds were not so fresh. There was a promise of forever, after all, and that brought with it time for everything that needed to be said and done between them... just not yet.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

There was nothing for it. Rumplestiltskin simply had to come to terms with the fact that Belle would be a constant temptation to him. He was no longer afraid that she might try to kiss him again. She had made it quite plain in her conscientious attempts to avoid any physical contact when they were together that she had no such intentions. Indeed, she seemed afraid of coming near him at all, no doubt thinking she might spook him. Or perhaps she was afraid of provoking his anger again. He had thought to apologize for his treatment of her, but what could he say really? And how to bring it up without inviting further discussion of topics he did not wish to pursue?

At any rate, he was not worried about what _she_ might do. No, he was the problem now. He found himself thinking far too often about how soft her lips had felt against his, resisting increasingly frequent urges to take her hand or to hold her. He wanted very much to accept the love she offered him, love that he still believed he had no real right to but that he wished to claim more and more with each passing day. His strongest fear at the moment was that he might lose control of himself and kiss the girl senseless, power or no. He hadn’t left the castle in weeks. He told himself that he wanted to be here to protect Belle when her Majesty eventually stopped by to gauge the effectiveness of her plotting, but in truth he simply couldn’t stand the thought of being away from his little caretaker.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

He’d spent the morning in the tower, saying that he’d neglected his work for too long and needed to attend to things that should have been done weeks ago. She’d been happy enough to go about her morning chores without him, content in the knowledge that he no longer retreated to the turret room to avoid her. When he didn’t come down for tea, she decided to go up and see if she might tempt him away from his work for a couple of hours.

They met on the narrow stairs up to the tower - he coming down to join her and she going up to fetch him. Belle went to turn around and make her way back down the stairs with him, but she lost her footing and started to fall. He was quick, snatching her and tugging her against him before she could tumble backwards down the stairs.

After weeks of carefully avoiding any touch or even standing too close, she was in his arms, his hands about her waist holding her tight and his eyes staring into hers. They stood frozen, gazing at one another, neither seeming to want to move or even breathe for fear of breaking whatever spell held them in place. Finally, he leaned forward bringing his mouth dangerously close to hers and Belle was torn from her immobility.

She ducked her head, staring down at his chest but making no move to free herself from his embrace. He brought a knuckle up under her chin, tilting her face back up to his and looking into her eyes for a moment before leaning in close to her once more. He brought his forehead down to rest against hers and ran the back of his hand along her jaw before slipping his fingers into her lush chestnut curls and cradling the back of her neck. Her breath quickened and he felt her shiver at his touch.

“No need to be afraid of me, Dearie.”

She responded with the only thing she truly wanted to say to him. _“I love you.”_ It was the softest of whispers, her breath a kiss upon his skin.

“Yes."

That one word was all she needed to bring her hands from his shoulders to lace through his hair and weave together at the back of his neck.

“Belle,” he whispered finally, pulling back to meet her eyes again. “I can’t kiss you.”

“I know.”

“You wanted a man...”

“I wanted _you_ to love me.”

He stared at her for the longest time, and she could see the struggle behind those dark eyes before he finally spoke in a voice that was low and soft, and so very sad.

“I do.”

“If you can truly love me as you are, then I don’t need you to be an ordinary man.”

“You can’t mean you’d have me as I am?” The disbelief in his voice was enough to tear at her heart. How could he think so little of himself when he had become everything to her?

Her lips quirked in a rueful smile. “As much as you’ll allow me, yes.”

“Belle...” He wasn’t sure how to go on, but she saved him the trouble of working it out.  
His sweet little Belle gently pulled out of his embrace and started down the stairs.

“Your tea is getting cold.”


	4. Chapter 4

Belle hadn’t pressed him since their encounter on the stairs, and he was glad of it. She’d allowed him to follow her down and take his tea in silence, staring at her the entire time as though he’d never seen a woman before. It was close enough to the truth. He’d certainly never seen  _anything_  like  _her_  before. It was one thing to accept the fact that she might wish to break his curse and love him as an ordinary man. It was quite another to come to terms with her declaration that she could want him in his present state. The temptation to relinquish his power for the love of his charming caretaker he could live with, but he wasn’t sure he could muster the courage to accept her love as the Dark One. It would mean allowing her to see the worst of him and trusting in her acceptance of it. It was a thing he didn’t think he had it in him to do. That kind of hope was beyond him.

Yet over the past few days, he’d found himself seeking her out while she was about her chores, allowing his fingers to brush across hers when she handed him his tea, finding excuses to be in the library when he knew she was in her preferred spot with a book. He’d even caught himself brushing a stray curl from her face as he bid her goodnight the previous evening. He was distracted, mooning about like a lovesick fool. He hadn’t left the castle in an age. Something had to be done... and not just for his sake. 

Belle was patient but he could see the flashes of hope and disappointment in those lovely blue eyes, the wistful smiles as she turned away from him when they said goodnight. If he had any hope of being worthy of her, he couldn’t go on hurting them both like the coward he was. Belle had the right to know what she was asking for, and to understand the enormity of her mistake.

What had she said? “ _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.”_ He certainly hoped that was true, because it was time to put them both out of their misery. He took a deep breath and headed down to the library, not certain exactly what it was that he was hoping for, but suddenly determined to give her this much, regardless of the cost. He might not be able to give her what she wanted, but by all the gods, he  _would_  give her this.

He found her curled up in her favorite chair, so engrossed in her book that she hadn’t noticed him come in, and moved to her side quickly before he could change his mind. Plucking the book from her hands, he set it aside, mindful of keeping her place, and then met her questioning gaze. 

“I believe,” he began, settling himself at her feet, “I owe you a story.”

The delighted smile she offered him was enough encouragement for Rumplestiltskin to begin as Belle settled herself back into the chair and gave him her full attention. He held her eyes for awhile as he began to tell her of the first ogre war, but soon dropped his gaze to the hands fluttering in his lap when he started to speak of his injuries and desertion. He told her of his wife’s disgrace and abandonment. He even confessed in a strained whisper that he was grateful when news of her death reached him, grateful that he could simply tell Balefire when he was old enough to ask that his mother was dead, grateful that he would be spared the disappointment in his son’s eyes when he had to explain why she’d left them.

He hadn’t realized that Belle had leaned forward in her chair and was gently petting his hair until he heard her mutter under her breath. He started, looking up into blue eyes that blazed with anger and flinched as though she had slapped him. She must have realized that he hadn’t heard what she’d said, because she repeated her muttering more clearly for his benefit.

“I said your wife sounds like an ungrateful cow.”

“Wha...” he stammered, “I don’t...?” He was having serious trouble understanding that the anger he saw in her eyes wasn’t directed at him for his cowardice but was born of indignation on his behalf.

“Rumplestiltskin,” Belle began softly, “I’ve lived through an ogre war. I’ve seen what it means to send what amounts to bodies to the front lines with no hope of stopping them or even slowing them down, sending men to face those soulless things with no chance of victory, for no reason but to die. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to send a husband off to battle and know,  _know_ that you’ll never see him again. If you’d managed to come home to me, I would have been on my knees with gratitude regardless of the circumstances. It’s not cowardice to want your son to have a father or to refuse to die when it serves no purpose to do so. Your wife was a heartless fool.”

He gaped at her. The idea that she could accept his cowardice without scorn hadn’t even occurred to him. That she was actually defending his choice to run from the battle was inconceivable. 

“Belle, I...” He had no idea how to proceed and simply stared as he had when she’d returned to the castle, as though somehow he might will himself to understand her if only he could manage to peer deeply enough into those clear blue eyes. She was the one to speak finally, offering him a tiny smile and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve interrupted you. I’m sorry. I know this can’t be easy.” She looked at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and waited for him to continue, prompting gently when he did not. “Tell me about your son?”

This was not the way he had expected the telling of his tale to go. He blinked stupidly for a moment, trying desperately to focus, to make sense of anything, and then he heard himself speaking again. He didn’t avoid her request to tell her about Baelfire this time. This time he told her of that second war, of his desperation to save his son, of the beggar who claimed to be his benefactor. Once again staring at the hands still aflutter in his lap, he told her with the slightest hesitation of the dagger and how he had stolen it from the Duke. Told her of Zoso’s taunts in the forest that night, and of how he had murdered the Dark One and claimed his curse. His voice failed him as he stared down at hands that had gone still, and he closed his eyes against the memory of his Bae staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save your son, face the darkest power in the realm to protect him.” Belle’s voice. So quiet he might have imagined it. He looked up to see that she’d dropped from her chair to join him on the floor. Tears spilled onto her cheeks, and he reached out a hand to brush them away.

“Don’t waste your tears on me, Dearie. I don’t deserve them.”

She just shook her head and laid a hand along his cheek, finally managing to choke out a whisper.

“You said all magic comes with a price. Was Baelfire your price for the Dark One’s power?”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “In a sense, I suppose he was. But it’s nothing so noble as you suppose.” He looked away from her then, staring off into nothing as he considered his next words.

“The power of the Dark One is elemental, chaotic. It’s ungoverned by order. It took me lifetimes to learn how to tame it, to bring it under control. In the beginning, I was more it’s slave than master. I’m not sure I would have ever thought to change that if...” He stopped and drew his lips into a thin, tight line, his jaw locked and his eyes narrowed. Then, with a tilt of his head, he managed a wry smile. “I’m getting ahead of myself...”

He spoke of ending the war and bringing the children of their village home without much difficulty, but began to falter when he told her of Bae’s unhappiness at what he saw as losing his father to the Dark One’s magic. 

The story was more disjointed now, coming in fits and starts, jumping from one thought to another with no bridge that she could discern. Belle managed to sort out most of it as he went, piece it together in her mind from the jumble of half-finished images his words conjured.

“He called on the Blue Star. I should have known it couldn’t end well by the way the magic twisted when he named her. Fairy magic... it’s not good with... with what I am.”

Something about a deal and magic beans and some sort of portal to another land...

“I’ve never been brave, but it was worse with the magic practically clawing at me like a wild animal, so much worse. I couldn’t hold onto him any longer, and I couldn’t make myself let go of the dagger... and then he was gone. The ground closed up and swallowed my boy and he was gone.”  

He had never told this story, she realized, had no reason to tell it with his son gone, no one to tell it to. He’d never tried to make enough sense of it beyond the visceral to crystalize it even in his own mind. And why would he? Why would he ever want to take this out and look at it? 

 _Why do you spin so much?_   

She could hear the raw emotion in his broken voice even though it was so soft she had to strain to hear him now, and her heart broke a little more for him with each strangled word that fell from his lips.

“He said I was a coward, begged me to go with him.” He looked up at her, eyes shining with tears, and he seemed so very lost. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to stop talking, was horrified that he couldn’t stop himself from finishing this now that he had started. “I let him go, Belle. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” He tore his eyes away from hers and dropped his head into her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist when he felt her hand in his hair.  “It was so fast... I couldn’t think, and... he was so brave, willing to leave everything he knew to have his father back, and I just let him go. I sent him off into... I left him alone. All he wanted was his father, and I left him alone.” The words finally stopped and the sobs took over.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, how long it took for the desperate hitching gasps to subside into something close to normal breathing, but it was growing dark by the time he raised his head again. He sat up with a quick motion that took her by surprise, his body going rigid as he turned away from her and moved to stand. She reached out to grab his arm and he held himself still beside her, but would not turn back to meet her eyes.

“How long?” she whispered.

He was silent for so long, she began to think he wouldn’t answer her until he finally offered her a reluctant tilt of his head, and breathed a single word,  _“Centuries.”_ He stared down at his hands clasped together in his lap, his lips a rigid line. 

Belle reached out, covering his hands with her own.

“Rumplestiltskin...”

His head tilted towards her then, but he still would not bring his eyes to hers. She waited for what seemed like ages before slowly bringing one of her hands up to rest along his jaw. He allowed her to bring his chin up, finally looking at her with hopeless resignation.

“I told you, Belle, I’m a monster. My own son was willing to risk everything to get away from me.”

“He was willing to risk everything to save you,” she corrected. “He loved you. You’re not a monster, Rumplestiltskin.”

He stared at her for a long moment and then lowered his head once more, shaking it as he rose to his feet and reached out a hand to help her up. He would not look at her again, just turned away when she was standing and walked out of the library without a word or backward glance.


End file.
